


To Love Straightforward, Intricately

by cartographicalspine



Series: The Meek [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Romance, Dorks in Love, F/M, Friendship/Love, Names, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 13:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartographicalspine/pseuds/cartographicalspine
Summary: After the night in the grove, Cassandra and Trevelyan navigate the complicated first steps of what comes afterward.





	To Love Straightforward, Intricately

**Author's Note:**

> The title and summary sound very pretty and fancy, but it's honestly just a messy and unorganized look at what happens the day after The Ideal Romance. It involves meddlesome cousins, Skyhold's rumor mill (courtesy of the Spymaster network), and falling sick after doing the caboodle on a mountaintop when you're already exhausted from travel and almost dying. 
> 
> Before you ask, yes, I know Marlise, Mack, and Erzi are stupid names, but you have to unlock level 10 friendship with me to get their even stupider full names. Also, Marlise is the Inquisitor, Erzi has the Anchor and is the Herald, and Mack has a delicious little spy network running under Leliana's nose. His antics with Cassandra help to keep her distracted.
> 
> And yes, the middle section is not a mistake; Erzi happens to be formerly Tranquil, but that matters little in this story. Yep.

“So, do tell,” Marlise began as she dipped the washcloth once again and wrung it out deftly, slipping right back into an unhurried and practiced bedside manner. One she was accustomed to on both sides, even after years away from Ostwick. “How were the evening’s affairs? Were spirits amicable all around on behalf of both parties?”

Her cousin’s voice was a hoarse, wretched thing that made her ache in sympathy, but his smile was as serene and gentle as ever. “Were it not for this fever, would even half the castle know about it already?”

From his other side, their youngest cousin snorted and glanced up briefly from his work, already showing a great and earnest capacity for healing such that neither of them would have anyone else at their bedside without him as a secondary voice. “You wound Skyhold’s gossips. Do you know I had the commander, of all people, congratulate me on your happy pairing at breakfast?”

Marlise gave a helpless, braying laugh that would have scandalized the Orlesian court, and Mack closed his eyes as a blush that had nothing to do with fever spread across his face. “ _Heavens_.”

“If we’re going to hear all about it at the war table, so will you.” Marlise said, playing along with mock disapproval and a chiding tone. “Leliana claims she has _reports_. As in more than her usual number.”

Mack murmured weakly, his expression remorseful beneath his tousled hair. “I fear I’ve caused you both a terrible discomfort through my short-sighted indiscretions.”

She shook her head in amusement. “The only one whose discomfort you’ve caused is your own. Poor thing, laid up in bed and unable to attend to your sweetheart. She must be pining by now.”

He managed a laugh at that, though it gave way to a soft moan that had Marlise tutting in concern as she brought the damp cloth to his face. The way he leaned into the touch spoke of the relief it must have brought him.

Erzi’s smile turned somber and slightly pensive, and he returned to the potion he had finished measuring out. Despite his playfulness, he was focused and serious when the situation called for it. “That’s enough teasing, I think. I’ll fix you something cool and smooth for that cough; the swelling has gone down enough for tea, at the very least.”

“I should have you and your sympathetic magic to thank for that, I believe.” And Marlise and Erzi believed him. He did look much better since Erzi had coaxed him through the worst of his body’s poor reaction to his illness.

Erzi looked pleased at that, enough to wiggle his fingers at his cousins gleefully, the Anchor giving a quiet little thrum at the gesture. “Fade-touched hands, medicine of the future.”

Marlise raised her eyebrows and shared a grin with Mack, who had enough in him to return the smile. “Thedas shall demand much of its healers after you, then. I almost pity them for the high bar you’ve set.”

“Do not, for they should give only as much as they have.” Erzi tossed his head, and there was that pride again, so much like and yet unlike the Trevelyan disposition. “I’ve just been given more than most.”

He brought the potion to the bedside, and Marlise stepped back to give him and Mack some room. “All of it...good. You’ll improve more with rest, so get to it. Healer’s orders.”

“Yes, Healer Trevelyan,” Mack nodded drowsily, barely seeming aware that they were gathering up to leave. Whatever was in that potion hadn’t wasted its time in working; he was already so exhausted and worn out that he sank right into its effects without a struggle. “Thank you.”

Erzi flushed and looked away with a flustered huff. “I-I’ll be back in a while, so don’t think you’re getting out of it with that flattery!”

Marlise chuckled and pressed kisses to their foreheads before she put her arm around Erzi’s shoulders to lead him away, sputtering and blushing. “Come, I’ll delay the meeting so you have time to get back to him. They’ll have gossip enough to keep them occupied anyway.”

* * *

 Cassandra was doing her best to appear relaxed and unassuming, but the researchers in Skyhold’s main laboratory did not seem convinced of her act. Neither did the ones in the secondary labs or the libraries, and she had felt no real desire to take up the Inquisitor’s smiling invitation to the war council reconvening this afternoon, so she was—unhappily—on her own for now. It was her own fault but she just...well, maybe she had dared to hope for...ugh, she felt like a fool for even entertaining those thoughts. _It was an amicable parting; I insisted we have other things to do. I cannot expect..._

Fuming as she stalked through the stronghold’s narrow upper corridors, she turned the corner and only _just_ avoided colliding headfirst into the Herald, who looked up to regard her with his bright, penetrating gaze. Somehow, he’d kept the tray in his hands balanced and its contents unspilled, though now she was curious about it (and childishly hopeful again at the sight of a pair of Trevelyan eyes today).

The Herald began walking again, expression as controlled and detached as always. To a stranger, he would present as just another of the silent Tranquil mages that ghosted through the halls of Skyhold, empty and almost lifeless. But Cassandra knew better (about him, about them all), and she hoped he knew that, too. She was trying to, at least, and all for his efforts. They all were.

“You’re not at the council,” he said blandly, letting her fall into step beside him.

“I have no desire to be,” she said, feeling herself sour immediately at the thought of the strange tittering and the curious stares she had felt in her wake after she left her quarters in the morning. “Besides, you and your cousins have more of an aptitude for those meetings than I do. Speaking of, should you not be there already?”

He hummed and something rippled through his gaze, subtle but a sign of emotion he had worked tirelessly to control. The early days had been much, much harder in that sense, but they traded one burden for another, it seemed. She rarely saw him without dark, heavy shadows under his eyes anymore, neither him nor his cousins. Once, she’d called them spoiled and pampered, and she had never been prouder or sadder to have been proven wrong.

“After my rounds, I suppose,” he shrugged. “I have more than war reports to handle. You?”

“...overseeing security measures around the hold.” It sounded fake even to her own ears. Feeling her throat go dry in protest, she continued delicately, “And your cousins?”

“Marlise should be at the meeting already, probably reminding them yet again that Skyhold is more than a fortress for armed forces and that I couldn’t care less about the whole border situation. Let people come if they want”—and here he added a little exasperated gesture with his hands, making the tray’s contents rattle—“so long as they’re nice about it. Most of them are and the rest are usually willing to learn.”

Something shifted in his expression, and the way he narrowed his eyes at her made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She didn’t even know why.

“Although…”—and yes, there was definitely a smirk in his voice now, if not on his face—“with the topic of the hour, maybe she won’t have to. So, I was going to take this to Mack, who has been overdue for this, but perhaps you could free me up for my other patients before I make my fashionably late entrance to the meeting?”

He didn’t even wait for her response before the tray made it into her hands, and Cassandra blinked in surprise as he turned on his heel and headed back the way he came from with a soft _swoosh_ of his Tranquil robes. “Wait, what?”

She breathed in the scent of the hot tea wafting up from the teapot, soothing and light and clear. “This smells medicinal. And what do you mean, other patients? Has something—?”

Cassandra hated herself for it, but she called out with an unmistakable note of pleading in her voice, and he certainly heard it. “Herald, what has happened to him?”

The Herald stopped and looked at her over his shoulder, gaze dark and deep and pondering. He walked back to her and straightened her vest, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. “He’ll be fine as long as you’re quiet and attentive. And you can even ask him yourself if he’s awake. Congratulations, by the way. It must have been quite an evening to have him blushing and smiling like that.”

Her heart stopped. “You...you are aware of…”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” he grinned in amusement. “Our spymaster could barely contain herself while she was sorting through last night’s reports.”

“Leliana!” she hissed furiously, almost able to picture her secretive, all-knowing smile in her mind’s eye perfectly, down to the smug quirk of her brows over her gleaming, catlike gaze. “I might have known!”

“Good luck,” he said cheerfully, patting her arm in reassurance. “...and...go easy on him, okay? He’s only ever meant to make you smile.”

That was surprisingly gentle and touching of the Herald, who suddenly looked like the child he still was, with soft eyes and a soft voice and meekness in his posture. His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, turning away to leave, but Cassandra shifted the tray to one hand and ruffled his hair with her free one, smiling when that caught him off guard.

“Thank you, Erzi,” she said, making certain he took note of the fact that she used his real name over his title. By the way his eyes were shimmering, she knew he had noticed. “He’s lucky to have you.”

She hoped it sounded even half as true as what she felt in her heart.

He smiled brightly like the light he was known for and waved her away, the Anchor a beacon on his hand as he began to head towards the nearest set of stairs to the main level. “He’s even luckier to have you.”

And with that, he was gone, his voice carrying and echoing from conversations in the distance, likely a hundred more matters and issues coming at him through Skyhold’s runners. It was no wonder his cousins worried for him; there simply never was a moment’s rest anymore.

* * *

 She rapped her knuckles against the door and waited for Trevelyan’s beckoning call before she let herself in. He sounded tired, and as soon as she stepped inside, she could see why.

His back was to her, but the telltale signs of illness were all around him, arrayed across his room and in the air. His breathing was rough and ragged, and she caught sight of a half-empty washbowl and several bottles of potions on his bedside table. He stirred slowly, like every moment awake was an overwhelming effort, but he motioned wearily at the crowded table and fell still again.

“Please...you can place it there, dear heart. I’ll get to it in a moment.”

Cassandra was unused to hearing his voice like this, not smooth and cordial nor rough with sleep but respectful. Then again, everything after last night seemed entirely changed. Carefully making room for the tray, she set it down on the table and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I did not realize we had decided terms of endearment already.”  

His shoulders stiffened, and he rolled over to look at her, craning his neck as though the angle was all wrong for the conversation. His expression was as cool and collected as always, despite his flushed, sweaty skin and hollow-eyed gaze. “Seeker Pentagha—”

Even without his glasses, she knew he had noticed her cold disapproval. He opened and closed his mouth as though he was struggling to find his voice, and finally he gave in to the pressing silence between them. Wordlessly, he sat himself up against the headboard, wincing wearily as he did. Before she knew what she was doing, she was leaning over him to adjust his pillows, to smooth out his bedsheets, and to force him to take the tea that the Herald had left her with. She was certain that both of them were entirely too aware of just how close they were. Again.

Almost regretfully, she stepped back out of his space.

There were so many ways she could start this, and all of them were bound to be awkward. This was terrible enough as it was, and all she had done so far was bring him tea and tease him about mistaking her for his cousin.

“Why do you do that?” she asked finally, and Trevelyan frowned in confusion. “No matter what happens...between us, you always step back into formality and custom.”

He stared for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. “That I call you Seeker Pentaghast? Does it bother you?”

Cassandra pursed her lips in frustration. “After last night, you still have to ask? _Yes_.”

He remained silent, so she continued with a sigh that just barely managed not to be a growl. “You never call me by my name. Or you finally did, but today it’s as though nothing happened.”

“Is that what you think of my behavior…Cassandra?”

It sent a veritable _shiver_ up her spine, and the look in his eyes made it doubly so. Her face heated up; Maker spare her but her face was so hot and her fists clenched so tightly that she thought she would combust. When she finally managed to stop scowling at the clutter of bookshelves on the far wall, she found him staring calmly at the cup in his hands. “Do I always do that?”

“I can attempt a diplomatic response,” he said, taking a cautious sip of tea.

“No,” she said bluntly, seating herself at the edge of the bed. “I will not stop asking until it’s true.”

He looked so amused. She wondered why it made her heart quicken. “Very well. I...only wished to spare you the discomfort. If I seem formal or detached, it’s because I don’t want you to be unhappy whenever I speak to you. I thought…”

Cassandra cursed herself for the way she reacted and for making him ever believe she preferred distance and coolness to...whatever it was that she wanted now. She didn’t know. “It does not make me unhappy. You’ll find it’s quite the opposite, actually.”

Even with the fever, there was a noticeable blush across his cheeks. “I have to say, that is very much a relief to hear.”

“You didn’t think you actually upset me, did you?” She couldn’t help her laughter, even as he gave her a half-sorry, half-worried look.  “You are such a ridiculous man, even now. You do realize this is not what I was expecting after last night.”

“Forgive me, then,” he said sheepishly and honestly, and she wondered how he could not see that he had nothing to apologize for. “I didn’t wish to presume, and I certainly didn’t intend for things to take this turn. In particular.”

Cassandra reached for his hand, another odd turn from the usual, but she figured that they were past that point already. “So you were unwell even last night?”

“Not hardly, although…” Trevelyan chuckled, and there was a flutter in her stomach even with how gravelly and tired the sound was. “I should have waited, but I didn’t want to delay our return to Skyhold. I thought I could rest when we got back.”

“Instead of in Wycome,” she supplied for him and sighed at his curt nod.

Cassandra had seen the reports the “delegation” had forwarded to the war council while they were away, and the anxious feeling in her stomach had yet to fully leave her whenever she thought of it. She knew of the red lyrium, the situation between the city and the Dalish clan going south quickly, and how Trevelyan had been taken hostage with several Inquisition agents she hadn’t realized were stationed up there. The reports were clear, frighteningly detailed and yet not detailed enough. Knowing what had happened up there but not knowing exactly what had happened to him had gnawed at her until she saw him and his cousins arrive at the gatehouse. Until he smiled and waved at her. Until he came to her at the training yard and extended his invitation to the grove.

Until now. “What happened, exactly?”

He sighed and set aside the empty cup, looking a little less wan than he had when she stepped into the room. “It was as the reports say, a diplomatic mission gone wrong. We never meant to stay that long, and then the full extent of the situation was uncovered, and I was separated from my cousins and companions. By then, we had the elves to consider, not just myself and my fellow agents. Erzi would never have abandoned them...none of us would.”

“We made it out alright,” he continued hoarsely, rubbing at the bruise-dark skin under his eyes, “once the fighting was done and the entire plot revealed to Wycome and her surrounding city-states. But we were exhausted, and poison is not so quick to recover from.”

 _“You were poisoned.”_ Cassandra scoured her mind for any recollection of the reports; she hadn’t seen any mention of it so far as she could remember, unless… “I am going to wring Leliana’s neck.”

Trevelyan looked genuinely dismayed at the thought. “I’m certain our spymaster didn’t mean to—”

“And I am never letting you out of my sight again, Trevelyan,” she added tightly, steadying herself with the feeling of his hands in hers. As long as she focused on that, she knew she could keep breathing. “...what is so funny now?”

He was _laughing_. Andraste's mercy, he had such terrible and wonderful timing for everything. Already she could feel her heart unclench, her fear flush away, her guilt dissipate.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” He gave her a soft, rueful little smile and squeezed her hands. “I caused you so much grief and troubled you over your own name, and yet you still refer to me by my surname.”

“Are you suggesting I am a hypocrite?”

“Perish the thought, but the point still stands.”

Cassandra suddenly felt her smile drop away, and she chewed on her lip as she mulled it over. Yes, she wanted this from him, but how was she to return the favor? “I am uncertain...Ara?”

It was like nothing she was used to. She tried again, more hesitantly this time. “Mack?”

His eyes crinkled with mirth. “They sound so strange coming from you.”

“I’ll keep trying,” she decided, and loved the pleasant tone of his laughter this time around. He almost seemed improved with every attempt at his name that she made as she worked to make it sound right and natural as hers did on his lips. She wanted him to feel exactly as she did when he said, “Cassandra.” She wanted it more than anything.

With a heady rush of emotion, she climbed up onto the bed with him, ignoring his protests and rationalizations, the clamminess of his skin beneath her hands, how hot and feverish he still was. He would taste of nothing but sweat, medicine, and sharply herbal tea.  He was an absolute mess, and he was perfect.

“W-wait, don’t. I’ll only make you—”

Cassandra pushed him back against the pillows, said “I don’t care”, and kissed him hard. And she did mean it, whether she had to spend the next week in this bed—coughing and aching and miserable—or not, because it was not such a terrible place with him, learning to love her name in his voice and teaching him how to love his own on her lips. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

When he kissed her back, she knew this was exactly where she belonged.


End file.
